Slave 4 U 2
by Riley4
Summary: Sequel to Slave 4 U


Slave 4 U 2  
Dance of the 7 Veils  
By Riley  
Pairings: BF/MT  
Rating: R  
Type: Smut!  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making any money from this story. The song is "Slave 4 U" by Britney Spears.  
Note: A HUGE thank you kindly to Snowee, for all of her belly dancing help in this story.  
  
It was nearly 5 o'clock when Fraser once again ran up the stairs of the consulate towards Thatcher's office. He only had two minutes left before Thatcher finished for the day. Ovitz was putting his coat on as Fraser ran past him and, knocking ran into Thatcher's office. He was greeted for his trouble with a harsh; "You're late, again!"  
  
"Actually ma'am, I think you'll find I have approximately one minute and five seconds to go."  
  
Thatcher pointedly ignored his correction. "Did you get everything?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Put it on the desk then." While he did so, she asked, "Did you have the correct amount of money?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good." Thatcher emptied the contents of the brown paper bag over her desk. One by one she placed each item back into the bag after checking it, obviously to make sure he had purchased exactly what she had wanted. The last item she picked up was the 'ribbed' condoms. She glanced at the packet and then up at him with a look of surprise, which then turned to intrigue. He averted her gaze by looking at the wall behind her. Thatcher quickly tossed them into the bag with the rest of the items. Loudly clearing her throat, she croaked, "Dismissed."  
  
Fraser was relieved to be allowed to go. He quickly spun on his heel and bolted out of her office.  
  
In his spartan apartment, Fraser was lay on his bed reading one of his father's diaries, with Dief curled up at his feet. He was searching it on the off chance that maybe his father had had a similar experience with a superior officer! He knew it was a long shot, but one never knew. He knew he should say something to the Inspector about today's errand, but the question was what to say? They didn't exactly see eye to eye on things, well, anything actually. And she was not the type of person Fraser could easily talk to. The woman unnerved him. Her beauty, her intelligence, her total disdain for him all drew him to her in a way he couldn't explain. He had never had a woman treat him like she did before. And to be quite honest with himself, he liked the fact that she challenged him. Most women he met treated him like Francesca did. But not Meg Thatcher, he'd never come across a woman like her before and he wanted her. Nevertheless, it was one thing to send him to retrieve her dry-cleaning, and another to ask him to buy such personal items. Even for her that was going too far.  
  
Rapid knocking on the door made him jump to his feet in surprise. Hurrying to the door, he pulled it open.   
  
Inspector Thatcher pushed past him, into the apartment. Above the neighbour's incessant shouting, he said, "Inspector?" He stood with his back to the open doorway, staring at the woman now in his apartment.  
  
"Shut the door Fraser," Thatcher's voice was urgent, as she peered past him at a woman throwing a plate at a man in the corridor. Fraser quickly obeyed and shut the door.  
  
"Fraser, as your superior officer I have to ask, why the hell do you live here? Don't we pay you enough? Because believe me, you can have a pay rise if that's the problem!" She glanced around her in distaste.   
  
Fraser looked a little upset at Thatcher's distaste of his home and neighbourhood. "No, the pay is ample for my needs sir."  
  
Thatcher shook her head. "Regardless, anyone else would have jumped at the chance of a pay increase! So, why do you live here, Fraser?"  
  
"With all due respect sir, I was under the impression that where I live is my own personal business!"  
  
"I'm concerned." Her eyes portrayed her concern to him, and his expression softened to his usual Fraserness. Thatcher rushed on, "Erm, and, both on and off duty, you do reflect Canada, constable!" With that, she decided to drop the subject, and get to her point of visit. "Anyway, I didn't come here to bat the ball around about your living arrangements."  
  
"You didn't sir?"  
  
"No." He tilted his head to one side and regarded her. She smiled. "Oh boy, did I start this visit off well! I'm sorry Fraser. I didn't mean to come here and tear your home to pieces. It was very rude of me. It's just, well, I came here with all good intentions and then as soon as I got out of my car I was propositioned by three men, one drag queen, and chased by a dog, all before I even got inside your apartment building." She laughed.   
  
He smiled. "I'm sorry sir."  
  
"It's not your fault."  
  
"Would you like a drink sir?"  
  
"Oh, yes. Do you have a whisky?"  
  
"Only water, tea or milk, I'm afraid. I highly recommend the tea for calming ones…erm, tea?"  
  
"Yes, thank you."  
  
He started to move around the kitchen preparing the tea. Thatcher deliberately avoided the bedroom area and followed him into the kitchen. "And when you got inside the building ma'am?"  
  
She looked at him briefly confused, heard the neighbours shouting again, and the haze cleared. "Let's just say the police training came in handy. Only instead of dodging bullets I dodged flying plates." They both grinned.  
  
They took their cups of tea and sat at his round table. Fraser waited until Thatcher had drank some of her tea before once again tilting his head at her, and looking at her questionably. "I suppose you want to know why I'm here!" She took a deep breath, and Fraser thought of the other time she had been sat at his table. He had a feeling that like last time, she'd come to apologise. Just as he thought it she said, "I've just been to my belly-dancing lesson. All through it I kept thinking of how badly I've treated you today. And so after the lesson I found myself driving this way. I came here to apologise to you for the errand and for my lack of thanks. I realise that I was…less than gracious. I'm sorry. I…I was embarrassed and didn't mean to be rude."  
  
"It's okay. I understand."  
  
"No, it's not okay Fraser. The fact of the matter is I trust you to do things like that for me, and then I treat you terribly afterwards because I'm ashamed of myself. I'm sorry. It's not fair on you. It isn't in your job description, and it won't happen again."  
  
"I'm very flattered that you trust me enough to do those things, ma'am."  
  
"You're a very good friend Fraser." He blushed at her words and she smiled at him. "Have you noticed how on the only two occasions I have come here, I seem to need to apologise!"  
  
"Perhaps we can change that! Would you like to come for dinner here tomorrow?"  
  
"I erm…yes. Yes, I would."  
  
Thatcher pulled at her coat uncomfortably. Fraser noticed and quickly jumped to his feet. "Oh! I'm sorry. How inhospitable of me! Here, give me your coat and I'll hang it up for you!"  
  
Thatcher jumped back. "Er, no."  
  
"But you look hot."  
  
"I only have my belly-dancing costume underneath."  
  
"Ah! I see!"  
  
"What the heck! It's too hot in here. If you don't mind my taking my coat off, I don't! You don't mind do you?"  
  
"Erm, no." She shrugged out of her coat and handed it to him. His pulse rocketed as he took in what she was wearing, or * wasn't * wearing. She stood before him in only a red bra with gold thread woven into intricate patterns. A belly-ring. A tight v design chain belt around her hips held seven matching red and gold decorated veils in place around her waist. Over that was a leather belt with a series of gold coins and bells. Fraser couldn't help but to stare. Thatcher looked him harshly in the eye and cleared her throat. "I'll…erm, I'll hang your coat up." On the way back to the table, he quickly poured himself a cold glass of water and gulped it down.  
Thatcher was drinking her tea when Fraser rejoined her at the table. "How long have you been performing Raks Sharki?"  
"I beg your pardon?" Thatcher asked.   
"Belly-dancing. Raks Sharki is Arabic for 'Oriental dance.'"  
"Oh, right. I've been taking lessons since I was a teenager. I saw the dance abroad when I was on holiday with my parents and ever since then I've been hooked. I've been practising the 'dance of the seven veils' tonight. Hence the costume. It's usually a gimmick, but once in a while we have a go for fun. Do you know much about belly-dancing then?"  
"Er, only second hand, with what I've read. I've never actually seen anyone dance. However, I'd very much like to!" Fraser left the suggestion in the air, hoping she would take him up on it.  
Thatcher smiled at him. "Is that a request?"  
"If you'd like to!"  
"I don't know…it's a little…I mean…"  
"If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to do it. I'll understand."  
They looked hard into each other's eyes. "Okay. But this is a private performance. Dief can't watch."  
"Understood." Fraser turned to Dief. "Would you please go outside onto the fire-escape Dief! It will be cooler than in here." Dief stuck his tail in the air and headed out onto the fire escape. Humans!  
Thatcher had no choice but to move into the bedroom area, as it was the only place large enough to dance in. Fraser followed her and sat on the bed. "Do you have any music?"  
"I have this cassette player that Ray gave me for Christmas. The only problem is, I don't actually have any cassettes. Oh, wait! Yes, I do. I was given one today by Ray." Fraser fished into his nearby jodhpur pockets and produced a cassette, which he placed into the deck. It was the same cassette and song that Ovitz had given to Ray.  
Thatcher started to dance to the beat and lyrics; "All you people look at me like I'm a little girl. Well, did ya ever think it'd be okay for me to step into this world!"  
  
First off, Thatcher held her hips perfectly still and slowly started to move her bust from side to side, and then forward and back. She dropped one side of her bust and raised the other. Sliding the one that's raised down, she brought her other bust up. The move had the effect of a figure eight facing Fraser.   
  
"Get it, get it, get it, get it, huh. Do you like it! Get it, get it get it, get it, huhuhuhah."  
  
Thatcher started to move her hips at the same time as her bust, in opposite directions. As she did the move faster, it had the look of a tornado. The faster Thatcher moved the more noise came from the coins and bells attached to her belt. And they shimmered as they caught the glow of the sun. Fraser was enthralled.  
  
"What's practical, what's logical, what the hell, who cares! All I know is I'm so happy when you're dancing there. I'm a slaaavvvve for you. I cannot hold it. I cannot control it. I'm a slaaavvvve for you. I won't deny it. I'm not try'na hide it."  
  
Thatcher started to remove one of the veils. She slowly unravelled one of the ones that lay on the top of the sides. All the time, continuing her bust and graceful arm movements.  
  
"Oh baby, don't you wanna dance upon me!"  
  
She slowly raised her arms, moving at the shoulder as she twisted her hands in graceful movements. Her upper torso held still as she sent her hips into isolated motion. She then progressed on to the famous undulating movements of the abdomen and hips. She tightened her lower abdominal muscles and moved upward one set at a time, whilst removing a second veil.   
  
Then Thatcher gave Fraser a good shake of her breasts, all the while looking Fraser directly in the eye. Whilst removing a third veil, she smoothly did some more hip rotations. To Fraser's pure delight, she was working her way down to unveiling the most delicate areas.  
  
"I really wanna dance tonight with you. I really wanna do that which you want me to."  
  
Moving her right hip up, and pushing out, Thatcher shifted her weight to the left. This move had the effect of an eight on its side facing Fraser. Thatcher was really getting into the flow of the music. She smiled at Fraser and removed a fourth veil, revealing more of herself to him. Fraser started to sweat profusely.   
  
Bringing one toe forward, Thatcher then thrust her hip up. At the same time turning her pelvis to the side in this move, giving a good jerking movement.   
  
"I'm a slaaavvvve for you. I cannot hold it. I cannot control it. I'm a slaaavvvve for you. I won't deny it. I'm not try'na hide it."   
  
Thatcher toyed with the fifth veil, looking Fraser directly in the eye, before dropping it to the floor with the others.   
  
"Get it, get it, get it, get it, huh. Get it, get it get it, get it, huhuhuhah. Here we go now!"  
  
Repeating the pelvis jerk movement, Thatcher turned her knee out, dropping that hip, and gave it another twist and thrust. Fraser was leaning forward on the end of the bed, as if hypnotised by her sexual movements.   
  
With the last two veils on, Thatcher decided to do a shimmy. She moved her hips really fast. The veils fluttered with the movement, and the coins and bells jingled in rhythm. Taking hold of the sixth veil, Thatcher surprised Fraser by whipping it off and throwing it at him. To her amusement it landed on his head and cascaded down his stunned face.  
  
With the last remaining veil barely hiding his view, Thatcher leaned her upper torso back and shifted it back and forth, while moving her hips. If the rest of the sensual dance hadn't done it for Fraser, this certainly did. The move was far too sexy for him to contain himself.  
  
"Like that!"  
  
Fraser stood up, his tight jeans bulging at the seams, and walked over to her. Taking her in his arms, he scooped her up and carried her to his bed. Removing her last veil, he kissed her deeply on the lips. Breaking off the kiss, he said, "You're amazing Meg Thatcher. I've never met a woman like you. Do you realise what you do to me?"  
  
Her lips curled into a challenging smile, "Show me! Show me what I do to you, and I'll show you what you do to me!"  
  
The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, demonstrating the intensity of their feelings by making love in Fraser's bed.   
  
He lay awake watching Meg sleeping in his arms. She was finally his. This was one woman he certainly wasn't going to lose.   
  
"Ah! I knew this would happen son."  
  
"Dad! Shh! You'll wake Meg."  
  
"I was right about the ribbed condoms, wasn't I!" He beamed at his son, and Ben turned red.   
  
"Dad would you please go. I don't want you to wake Meg, and besides, I'm going to sleep now." Fraser turned his back on his father and spooned Meg's body against his. In a huff, Fraser senior left through the closed door. Giving Thatcher a goodnight kiss on her cheek, Fraser inhaled the sweet scent of her hair and fell asleep. 


End file.
